I'm The Only One
by June Birdie
Summary: I loved him, I know I shouldn't but I did. He was noble and kind, a knightly man, one I wished to call mine. But we could never be. He was my commander and I but a captain under him, that is all I will ever be. I'm the only one to love him.
1. To Say Goodbye

**_Standard Disclaimer: Nothing that you recognize is mine, how I wish this were so, but unfortunately you can't own people, damn. I'd make them dance for me wink wink anyways, the idea is mine and the unrecognizable characters are mine._**

_**Summary: The Romans conquered Sarmatia, leaving only the brave and noble Sarmatian Knights; their duty to Rome is to provide sons to the Roman cause. One tribe has borne no sons, but their daughters are their pride. Woe unto thee who suffers the wrath of this Warrior Class. **_

* * *

To Say Good-Bye

* * *

The Roman soldiers led their quarry to the main tent of the tribe. It was time, time once again for this Sarmatian tribe to fulfill its duty to the Roman Empire. The leader of the tribe limped up to the commanding officer to exchange brief words. 

"Our sons are not yet of age, can you not come back?" He asked pleas in his eyes. The eldest son was just two years old, his son.

"Nay, your duty to Rome must be fulfilled this hour, this time. If not, your people will be slain and your village burnt. You know the rule." The officer answered harshly. The tribe did know the rule, and it was dishonorable to disregard the oath sworn by their ancestors; but too few sons were borne. The leader of the tribe continued to argue with the soldier in vain. Irritated the soldier kicked the man in the face and drew his sword threatening to slice the leader in two.

"STOP!" A little voice yelled followed by a rain of rocks. On the small slope above the tribe and soldiers, there stood five little girls barely into their teens on horses. The one that spoke sat on her horse in the middle, her dark hair blew in the wind, her bright amber eyes shone like gold against her tanned skin, tattoos like the tribe's leader decorated her arms from her shoulders to the back of her hands. "We will fight for our tribe!" The young amber-eyed child called down to the soldier.

"Marcella, No!" The leader objected. "She is my daughter and foolish. The Romans do not need women fighters." He tried to pull the girl from her horse.

"Either them or your sons. Makes no difference, you must fulfill your duty." The soldier replied indifferently.

"Papa, please give me your blessing. I must do this, to save our people, to save my brother." Marcella leaned down and hugged her father, the other four girls followed suit as their fathers reluctantly gave their blessings and hugs.

"You must train hard, become the pride of our people, my blessed Marcella," her father whispered in her ear. She looked at her father with unshed tears in her eyes. Then she looked at the four girls who would accompany her and fulfill the Sarmatian duty to Rome. Annalisse, Sarai, Miram, and Ilena; they were the oldest children and her closest friends. Annalisse's bright red-hair and dark green eyes matched her mother's but her nature was much like her father, a dreamer yet strong willed. Twin sisters Sarai and Miram both had curly dirty blond locks and bright eyes, but tanned skin, Sarai kept her hair short while Miram liked hers long and up. Ilena and her family were not originally from this tribe, their dark skin and hair of a nomadic tribe outcast them from everywhere except here, the girl was Marcella's best friend and would follow wherever Marcella would lead. With one last look to her father, Marcella and the other girls screamed their war-cry, "RUUUUUUUSSSSSSS!" Just as their tribe was about to cry back, a dark shadow hovered over them and slaughtered them in one blow.

"NO!" Marcella awoke with a start. Only darkness greeted her, she had that dream, the same dream for the past week and a half of the slaughter of her people. But it wasn't a dream, no; her father's sword propped against the far wall was proof of that. A messenger arrived a week and a half ago bearing news of her tribe, they were slaughtered by some unknown force and she could not leave her post to give proper burial to them; none of the girls could. It had been twelve years, twelve long years of training, fighting, killing; a horrible cycle that would continue for three more years. Now at 25, Marcella's body grew into that of a fair young woman, her amber eyes and pouty pink lips were full of mischief, running a slender calloused hand through her long dark hair, chunks of it were streaked light from training in the sun; twirling a lock with her fingers she decided it needed to be cut again.

Her eyes fell upon her father's sword shining brightly in the moonlight from her window. She hadn't been able to touch the blade since she received it a week and a half past when the messenger gave it to her. The sword was long and thin of strong folded steel, a double-edged blade, the make of the far easterners; a gift from the family of Ilena for taking them in. The pommel at the end of the hilt held a rough cut amethyst jewel smoothed by years of use. The sword was to be passed to her brother when he came of age, but the day would never come.

Realizing that sleep would be denied her, Marcella quickly dressed and took her weapon from the corner; a halberd, five feet of lead filled wood with an eighteen inch fold steel blade on one end. The early morning mist cooled her hot face as she headed over to the training yard of the Roman fort, Haridan's Wall in the Roman territory of Britannia. Right now, Marcella needed desperately to clear her head, not only was the dream there but the last battle with the Woads was still fresh as were the deaths of three of their own. Ginvive, a girl from a different tribe and her lover Gareth, he died protecting her limp body not consenting that his love already lay dead, as well as Marcella's near-lover Jonni, who died from nine arrows.

The sad little cemetery that housed their empty shells and many more seemed to laugh at her. 'I've claimed more! They are mine!' the plot of land mocked her. Marcella thrust and sliced her weapon at the practice dummy, the battle dances she trained with since her time in Britannia took over her body. She barely noticed that she hacked the dummy to pieces until someone's gentle voice came up.

"You're up early Marcella. Don't you have guard duty much later?"

"Going to bed Tristan? Then good night and leave me alone."

"Y'know, we won't have anymore training dummies if you keep that up." He replied coolly as he caught a bit of flying wood between his fingers.

"Shut up!" She yelled as she spun the weapon to his neck, he effortlessly blocked it with his sword; a blade much like the one her father had. In the dim moonlight, Tristan saw her eyes were red from the unshed tears and lack of proper sleep. He knocked the weapon from her strained grasp, she watched it fall to the side her lip quivered and exhaustion and grief overcame her body forcing her to the ground. Marcella hugged herself tightly, desperate to feel something, anything. Her shoulders shook from silent sobs and Tristan moved to the woman. Arthur had given her command of the female corps just the year before. The loss of any of the girls was exceptionally hard on Marcella, and with the new command she felt like it was her fault; she always felt it was her fault. Tristan knelt down to his best friend, they were extremely close, she'd first befriended him as they grew up and seeing her in such a state was downright heart wrenching. He hugged her shoulders as she cried; saying anything to try and comfort her was always fruitless, but just being near was all he could do.

"I should have trained her better. It's my fault… Ginvive was never the fighter. She shoulda never been near a battlefield," She repeated to herself, rocking in Tristan's embrace.

"You've done all you could. You both did your best…"

"Then why isn't she still alive? I promised her I would keep her alive!" She cried into his chest. "Why does she not breathe? By the Goddess, Gin should have ne'er touched a sword!" They sat on the dusty ground until she could cry no more, and then Tristan helped her back to her room.

* * *

Later that afternoon, they stood at the cemetery to bury their fallen with the other knights who survived the last bout with the Woads. The tears that Marcella thought she was rid of fell down her cheeks as her closest friends held her tightly. Barely had a year passed since the fall of Annalisse and now Sarai was struggling for life in the infirmary for her very life. Marcella held up Miram, who was weeping openly against her captain for all that had fallen. The Romans had collected fifteen girls into service; five became healers while the other ten became fighters. Now after twelve years only seven total had remained: Marcella, Ilena, Miram, Sarai, Reia, Augustine and Aruru. 

After all the words could be said, Marcella knelt down by Jonni's fresh grave, kissed her fingertips and placed a hand on his grave. "Good-bye my love, I will be with you soon." Arthur helped her rise and the group walked back to Hadrian's Wall. Despite having just lost her near-lover, Marcella could not help but lean into Arthur's embrace. For as long as she could feel for the opposite sex, she's had a growing crush on her knight commander, yet he only saw her as a great fighter and a loyal friend/sister… nothing more.

Vanora and the other tavern maids greeted the knights warmly as they sat around their usual table. Together, they shared stories and memories of the fallen as was their tradition they poured a little for their dead. In the corner sat Ilena and Tristan, friends and secret lovers, who watched and protected their sisters and brother-in-arms. Marcella let out a small smile as she watched Tristan slyly hand-feed her best friend a slice of his apple. To her it seemed as though a lot of the knights had paired off with someone.

Once she had been one of those happy couples, she would sit with Jonni and tease the other single knights for their whoring ways. It had taken a while, but Jonni had worn her down before she gave into him as well. But that was before the Woad attack and again Marcella felt the bitter pain of loss and loneliness.

Getting up from the table she left the tavern for the cold company of the battlements. Leaning on the stones, she tried to push away sweet memories of stolen kisses and fond touches in the dark. It was too painful, but necessary.

* * *

"Marcella, what are you doing here?" Arthur approached his lady knight; he'd seen her hunched figure on the wall and went to see if she were well. She had always acted strong, it was not in her to show weakness, but he had to see if she were still well. 

"Arthur," her heart skipped a beat, "oh, I'm fine, really." 'Lie, lie, lie!' She scolded herself inwardly.

"I know you well enough, now tell me the truth."

"Are you going to command it of me?"

"You know I would not, not as your commander, but as your friend. Please." Arthur moved next to her and pulled her in his arms while she finally let the sobs that caught in her throat out. Kissing her head, Arthur waited until she stopped shaking.

"I miss them so much, Arthur. It's my fault; I should have trained her better…" Marcella started, only to be shushed and hugged tighter. Her amorous feelings for Arthur came back tenfold, no matter how she willed them away, she leaned into his touch.

"Nay, it is not your fault. If any is to blame, it is with me. Every death that happened is because of my command. You all follow my orders…" Arthur started reveling in having her close; he had started having feelings for his second since she felled him on his rear all those years ago.

"And you two will continue to blame yourselves to death." Ilena's voice broke through their moment. "Come, it is cold and you will be good to no one if you fall ill." Reluctantly they pulled apart and Ilena wrapped her friend in a cloak and slung her arm around Arthur's shoulders leading them both back to the warmth of the fort.

But before they fully entered the inside of the building, Marcella cast one last wistful glance toward the wall, beyond it was the force that took Jonni away. Her heart would heal if she let it, but if she would only allow for someone to help her.

Arthur watched her from the corner of his eye, even in the dim light of the distant torches she was beautiful, it was then he had realized how much she loved Jonni. There was no way he could compete for her love with a ghost.

_**

* * *

There! Chapter 1 of my new story is finished. Woo Hoo! Please review and let me know if I should continue. I'm doing a story for each of my favorite knights, depending on how the each story is received will I continue. I hope you thought it was decent. **_


	2. Dinner and A Battle

_**Of course the standard disclaimer applies, it always applies. If it didn't that would probably have meant that I own it, but since I don't, one I'm not making any money nor do I have much if I were sued. Please don't sue me.**_

_**Ah, chapter two. I feel so accomplished. Yay me! Being this is my second period story, I'm having a bit of trouble approaching it.**_

* * *

Dinner and A Battle

* * *

"When will you tell him?" Ilena asked in the dark to Marcella, she knew of Marcella's attraction to their knight commander since they were young. Yet, despite it all, Marcella had never worked the courage to let her feelings known nor had she ever revealed them to anyone. Their survival for the 15 years of service held precedence over her love life, at least in Marcella's mind. One month had passed since the funeral then another, the turning of the seasons was upon them. The rains had come, and it was spring again. In another month, spring will fade into summer and Marcella will have reached her 26th year… another year where in her heart she will pine for her commander. And another year of which he would never know.

"Tell who what, Len? I know not what you speak." Marcella replied stiffly turning to her side in the darkness, Ilena snorted.

"Now I know you are distracted, for you call me not by that unless you are distracted." Ilena knew her friend and captain as well as she knew herself even if the other would not just admit it to herself.

"You speak nonsense, Ilena; I have always called you 'Len'—"

"When we were but children in Sarmatia, now it is not so." Ilena cut her off.

"Fine, then from now on I will call you 'Len' as I have done as a child." Marcella giggled turning to lie on her stomach.

"And I will have my Tristan disembowel you, for I love you too much to do it myself."

"Speaking of the head scout, why are you not with him this night? I thought you two were bound at the hip or should I say you two are bound lower than the hip?" Marcella teased.

In the dark Ilena gasped and promptly threw a rolled shirt at her best friend eliciting a surprised yelp before the two women burst into girlish giggles.

* * *

Marcella leaned against the water barrel with Lancelot and Sarai as they watched the others spar. Sarai was newly released from the infirmary, but not allowed to participate with training for at least another month or so. Lancelot and Marcella had just finished a round of hard wrestling, Marcella's weakest combat skill. Even though Lancelot had beaten her again, he was hard put to use almost every tactic against the young woman… unfortunately Marcella was ticklish.

Marcella's eyes traveled throughout the combatants particularly looking for one man in particular… Arthur. Every one of the knights knew of the hidden attraction between the two, except perhaps the two in question; Marcella believed he would only see her as a loyal friend and knight, while Arthur believed her to be still in love with Jonni despite his death. The noble knight commander did not want to impede on her love to satisfy his need to be with her and the young captain of the female corps longed for him in a way that it made her guilty to Jonni's memory.

Arthur was sparring with Percival as both were evenly matched. Their sword dance was incredible to behold, so much that if the others were not engaged in their own mini-battles they too would have watched as Marcella, Lancelot and Sarai did.

Arthur's skin glistened with sweat that trickled along his taunt muscles with every move in an effort to evade getting sliced with Percival's weighted practice sword. The other man was caked with sweat and dirt as Arthur had managed to pin him down twice.

The very image of Arthur's sweaty body took every ounce of Marcella's will not to shudder with heated passion. But her struggle did not go unnoticed by Lancelot and Sarai; the former devilishly grinned inwardly and leaned over to Marcella.

"What's wrong Marc, you look a bit flustered, heated I should think. Come with me and I am sure to take care of that for you." He slung his arm over her pulling the woman close to his own sweat soaked body only to get pushed off.

Wrinkling her nose, Marcella turned to her poison handler, "Sarai, do you hear something?"

"Faint, but yes. Whatever could it have been?" Sarai responded pressing her fingers to her lips. The two women grinned conspiratorially at Lancelot; the dark knight felt the sudden twinge of fear for his manhood. For he knew when women conspire, it is never a good sign for men.

"I know not, but I fear it was a fart and you know where those come from." Marcella glared at the dark knight while Sarai giggled at him before taking a ladle of cool water to Galahad and Gawain. Lancelot let out a relieved sigh before turning the conversation.

"Are you and he the only who do not see, Marc?"

"See what, pray tell?"

"Lancelot, leave her be. In her own time she will realize it. Until then let she and he live in their ignorance." Miram called out as she handed Dagonet a ladle of water as well as a kiss. Their passion was slow but very sweet and shy, Dagonet took his time courting Marcella's archer; especially after he realized his pursuit of Vanora was to be fruitless, Miram was unassuming when he swooped in and fell for her.

"What in the goddess' name do you speak of?" Marcella questioned again only she never received an answer for all attention was back on the fight between Arthur and Percival.

The was a final crash and a curse that brought everyone's attention to Arthur and Percival's fight, Percival was on his back with Arthur's sword at his throat.

"Yield?" Arthur panted, his chest heaving until Percival nodded his assent. With a boyish grin, Arthur helped Percival to his feet and in a comrade embrace they made their way over to the water barrel where the rest of the knights were.

Bors, Belvedere, Aaron and Gawain were on the benches getting treated by Vanora, Aruru and Augustine. Lancelot, Sarai, Marcella, Tristan, and Ilena were surrounding the water barrel, rather a quite red Marcella with good humored jibes.

Arthur's bright green-blue eyes caught those of Marcella's golden amber and his face felt more flushed. She nodded at him with a composed smile before turning back to whatever conversation was taking place at the water barrel.

"Percival, you are getting lazy, it took Arthur even less time to beat you than the last. Tsk, tsk…" Marcella teased the knight before tossing him a wet rag for his face. Percival feigned hurt before ruffling her hair. Arthur noted that she had cut it short again, in his dreams he imagined running his fingers through her hair, the raven locks had been lightened by the sun in streaks when she tied it up before battle. She had flicked some of her hair over her shoulder and he imagined what it would be like to trace those tattoos with his fingers and tongue. Every move she made, Arthur's mind brought him to images of her with him in every way possible. Arthur was so lost in his fantasies of her wriggling beneath him that he barely noted that the object of his deepest fantasy was speaking to him, more so with a look of amusement writ on her face.

"Arthur! Do you not hear man?" Marcella snapped her tattooed fingers in his face and Arthur was hard-pressed not to pull her close and kiss her breathless against the post behind him.

"Forgive me, Marc I was elsewhere. What were you saying?"

"Obviously, thinking of some blushing young maid no doubt. Pray tell, oh good commander, who the mystery lady is so that we may warn her of Lancelot's sudden interests." She half-joked, when he merely looked elsewhere she sighed, "I merely congratulated you on your win, and I am surprised how well you did since your mind is elsewhere." She continued to tease.

"Marcella, if you think me so distracted perhaps you may actually win against me." Arthur challenged good-naturedly. The other knights watched intrigued as the two began trading verbal barbs with stoic faces.

"Ah, Commander, it would be rather rude to shame you so. I fear the others would lose respect when you have lost to me, your lady captain…" Marcella stopped a moment with a smirk on her lips, "yet again." Pulling her weighted practice halberd from the rack, Marcella jumped the fence of the training ring and twirled the weapon around her before rolling her neck.

Before she even got into a proper fighting position, Arthur attacked with the same ferocity he always had; but as always Marcella was ready for him. Effortlessly she blocked and parried using the long weapon to its full potential. Their fight was a sight to behold, the air between them was so thick with a sort of sexual tension it could practically be seen. Their movements were much like a dance that they flowed well with one another.

Arthur had feint a stab at her right, but then suddenly twisted with a slice to her middle; Marcella barely managed to block it, her lips curled into an insane grin of glee at his aggression. It was moments like this, when his commanding and stiff mask melted away into the man he truly was, did she want him. It was moments like this that she wanted him to take her, no consequences, no rules, nothing but honest truth. Arthur watched as her body lithely twisted from him in a way he had not seen any other person do, momentarily he wondered what other ways he could twist her body in pleasure. The little grin on her lips grew into a smirk as she noticed his distraction and used the butt of her weapon to knock at his legs. Narrowly he managed to dodge and grabbed her right arm, spinning her which caused Marcella to be momentarily disoriented before digging the blade into the ground allowing her to propel herself into a mid-air cartwheel to kick Arthur and his practice sword to the ground. Spinning the long weapon above her head, she held the blade a hairs-breath from her commanding officer's Adam's apple.

"Yield? Or should we have another go?" Both fighters' skin glistened with sweat that left trails in the dust that coated their bodies.

With a slight grin, Arthur lifted his head haughtily, "Again."

The others cheered loudly at the prospect of another duel between the could-be lovers before Arthur stated in his commanding voice that they had all better get back to their training or else the Woads would think they'd gotten lazy. Marcella grinned at her commander coyly before getting into position for the next duel.

Besides how were they to survive the next few years of service if they did not train?

* * *

Sundown had found Arthur once again on his back with Marcella's practice weapon pointed at his nose. They had at least five or six bouts, his opponent having won three of them. The others had already retired from training and were cheering on the two with the secret hopes they would "stumble" and feelings, tensions and the like would come out… no such luck.

Marcella's breast rose and fell from hard breathing as she once again beat her knight commander. Licking her dry lips, she waited for him to yield again before deciding to extend her hand to help him up from the hard dusty ground. When her proud commander finally stated his acquiesce, Marcella wiped her sweaty palm on her breeches and offered her hand. With a heart-melting smile, he grasped her hand as if to pull himself up only to pull Marcella down to the courtyard ground next to him. Marcella fell to the ground with a loud thump and a pained groan before turning on her side to face Arthur.

"Tsk… with all due respect, you are fucking bastard." She muttered while watching his muscular body get up from the dry earth before pulling her up from the ground. Only he pulled her up a bit too roughly and Marcella fell hard against his bare sweaty chest. His strong hands were warm through the thin material of her shirt as he held her hips tight to him. Their eyes met with passion and need so clear in their depths; Marcella ran her tongue across her lips hastily as she took in the position she was in… all she had to do was go on her toes and kiss Arthur. Time seemed to slow as she lifted her head and—

"Oi! Anybody seen me boy Gilly?" Bors' loud voice broke the spell that had encircled Arthur and Marcella, immediately the two broke apart with blushed and hurried apologies.

"Um…I will…uh… see you at supper commander." Marcella cleared her throat and jumped the fence to run to her room. As soon as Marcella turned the corner of the building, she let out the breath and slid down the wall to the stone floor. "Stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid Marcella. I almost kissed him. Oh gods, how could I have let my guard down so much?" She quietly berated her self. Burying her head in her hands she let the tears fall, Jonni was barely cold and here she was going after another.

With a deep breath, Marcella calmed down enough and wiped away the traces of her feelings. Replacing the mask that held for the past 13 years, she made her way up the steps to the room she shared with Ilena thankful that her friend wasn't in residence at the moment.

* * *

Back at the training field, Arthur stood a little dazed at what almost happened. If he had been just a moment quicker, all that he felt would have been put into one singular passionate kiss with the woman that made his blood boil and his heart race and other parts of his anatomy swell. He stood in the middle of the training ring staring at the direction in which she fled, silently cursing himself. 'Damnit man, she still mourns for Jonni and here I am pursing her broken heart. I cannot give myself into the temptation of the devil.'

With a weary sigh he picked up his discarded shirt and left the training ring. At least he would still see her at dinner; at least she had still survived… for that he could thank God.

* * *

Around another corner, four pairs of eyes watched Marcella and Arthur with bated breath with all hopes for them only to let it out exasperated. Serai, Tristan, Lancelot and Ilena had tried to come up with ways for their Commander and Captain to at least get their relationship to a more intimate level, but every plan they had come up with had always fallen through. This time they were so close.

Ilena pushed herself from the wall and stalked over to Bors and Vanora at the other side of the courtyard. Vanora was about to call out a greeting when she saw the fury in the other woman's eyes and immediately moved the children to the other direction.

"Oi, Vanor—OW!" Ilena smacked the big man on the back of his bald head repeatedly until Tristan came up and grabbed his lover bodily by the waist.

"No, lemme at him, lemme go! It is all his bloody fault!" Ilena shouted angrily fighting her lover's embrace.

"Wot are ye on about woman?" Bors demanded nursing his poor head. He looked to Serai and Lancelot walk up and suddenly realization sparked. "Y'mean, they were close?"

"Yes, and then you had to open your big stupid mouth!" Ilena hissed in Tristan's arms trying to make another attempt at beating the large man.

"Let us see where supper will lead, aye?" Lancelot commented giving Serai an appraising look before the woman smacked the back of his head and stalked off toward the knights' quarters. Hissing, Lancelot rubbed the afflicted spot staring at the swaying hips of the woman, true he fancied all women yet he had to have any of the other female knights in his bed.

"Keep tha' up Lancelot an' I won' stop 'er from usin' 'er poisons on ye," Vanora chuckled as Bors steered her towards their little hut.

"And if she does not I will." Ilena stated after a smoldering look to Tristan and heading off to see to her captain.

* * *

Supper was normal as always, jokes were made, food was eaten, liquor was drunk and flirtations made; some subtle and some not so subtle. Across the Round Table, Arthur watched Marcella over the rim of his goblet. Her interactions were so natural and seemingly carefree, it was as though she had not seen the terrors of war or lost close friends to the life they led or felt blood stain her long fingers. Arthur hadn't realized that he'd been staring until Lancelot nudged him.

"She is a lovely one, aye?" The dark knight commented breaking the other's concentration.

"Aye…" Arthur caught himself in agreement with the dark knight. "Who? All women are lovely, Lancelot. It is as God made them."

Lancelot rolled his eyes, true he did get Arthur to admit something, but it wouldn't do if Marcella didn't know what their commander felt.

* * *

At the other end of the table, Marcella and a few others were engrossed in conversation, "Marc, I need help with some of my kicks. I can not seem to get them high enough." Aruru explained to her captain.

"Really, I thought with all the running away you do, you would at least be able to kick." Ilena cut in, she had little patience for the young woman. Aruru would sooner run from attacks than anything else, it was because she could be easily killed that Marcella allowed Aruru to become a healer than a warrior. In Marcella's personal opinion, Aruru would have made a better Roman lady because of the aversion to the warrior lifestyle.

"That is not fair, Ilena—"

"But she is right, Aruru," Reia shot back, her blue eyes smoldered with anger. The dark skin of her face marred by an ugly scar covering the left side of her face and body, Reia's dirty blonde hair often covered her face because of it. The bitterness in Reia's voice was justified since it was because of Aruru's distaste for fighting during a battle that left Reia horribly scarred and her brother dead eight years ago. "You run too often and hesitate; people die because you hesitate, dear Aruru…"

A loud bang brought the table's attention to the now standing Marcella. "That is enough, from all of you." Marcella's voice was firm as her stern and unrelenting gaze fell upon the blonde, the brunette Reia and her best friend Ilena. "I am trying to enjoy my meal, and I cannot do so, with the lot of you bickering so. Reia, Ilena, if you are so inclined as to disagree with my training style then by all means I challenge you to take it from me. If not, then let me do as my position decides. And you, Aruru, too often do you try my patience with your complaints. You are not the only one who did not want this life, but the rest of us do the best we can with what we have. Understand that if you were not my kin by country, I would have left you all those years ago to those Roman dogs so fond of women flesh."

"But I—" Aruru started.

"Will shut up and let the rest of us eat. I would like to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed, but do not drive me to it." Marcella resumed her seat and continued to her meal, slowly the rest of the hall returned to their meal and went on remotely peacefully. From the corner of her eye, Marcella noticed Arthur give her an approving nod and her insides seemed to warm over with giddy pleasure before quashing it down forcefully to remember Jonni.

* * *

"You handled that very well, Marc." Again Arthur found his captain at the battlements staring out into the Woad Territory. Her hair and cloak whipped around her in the cold winds leaving her cheek red and full lips chapped. To Arthur, she could not have been more enticing if she lay upon his bed in naught but a smile. The others were at the tavern for drinks and pleasurable or not so pleasant company.

"Nay, I only spoke the truth. If the truth requires little delicacy for sweetness, then so be it." Marcella smiled and Arthur returned it. He stood beside her and the two reveled in the other's company. "How is your jaw? I noticed you were chewing awfully slowing during supper."

Arthur's brow rose, "A bit sore, but how would you notice from across the table?"

Marcella stiffened before replying, "I saw how Percival hit you with the butt of his sword, and earlier I elbowed you. It would not do if you were injured before a Woad encounter came up." Then with a teasing smile, she continued, "How would others react if the great Commander Arthur were not on the battlefield?"

"They would fear his angry second in command on her hellish steed." Arthur laughed. "A woman that would strike fear into the hearts of Rome's enemies, for surely they would run."

"I have heard Lancelot be called many things but never a woman," Marcella replied cheekily turning to face him seeing his grin widen in the dim light cast by the torches. He had never looked more handsome than if he were above her in heat.

Arthur leaned on the wall on his elbows, "You have been coming here often Marcella, is anything amiss?"

"Nay, I just need to think. It is best up here, the guards pay me no heed and everyone else is at the tavern."

"Aye, 'tis very true. Tell me what is it you think of?"

'You.' Marcella thought before replying, "Just everything I suppose… but worry not, I would not dream of treading on your territory."

"Oh, and what is my territory, Marc," Arthur turn and stood toe-to-toe with his captain, his brow raised in question, hope in his eyes as there was in hers (or so he wished).

* * *

_**Second chapter finished! Thank GOD! Sorry for the delay, hope you liked it and that it didn't seem as fluffy as it felt. Please review!**_


End file.
